Given a Chance
by ShinyRedPenny
Summary: Anne of Cleves comes to the English court as their new queen, but King Henry is not what she expected. And neither is she to him. Yet they need each other and like it or not, they are stuck.
1. Chapter 1

**PROLOGUE**

The only thing that gave away her nervousness and pain was her hands. Despite her best effort to sit still and pretty for Master Holbein, her fingers would not stop fidgeting. But she couldn't help it- this rich, burgundy gown was stiff and tighter than her normal wardrobe and the thick, muslin shift was tied up to her neck for the sake of modesty, but it was wondrously hot. Heavy, golden chains dug into the back of her neck and looped over themselves, making it difficult to hold her head straight especially with the large, jeweled hood that pushed down on her. But she knew her face must not betray her discomfort for that would defeat the purpose of Master Holbein's presence at all. Her brother had vehemently fought against sending a portrait in the first place, but once it was insisted by the English envoys, he relented. If she had to be painted, she would be painted in all the finery the Duke of Cleves had at his disposal. Not that such finery was supposed to allude to vanity, of course. And not that the portrait would be exceedingly flattering. No, Holbein was to produce an accurate picture for the King of England and her brother insisted that she be the epitome of modesty, yet still showcase the wealth of Cleves.

It was a difficult tightrope to walk, but Anne was determined to do all that was asked of her. This was her one chance of escaping her overbearing brother and Cleves altogether. As such, she must outshine her younger sister, Amalia who she could see out of the corner of her eye pinching her cheeks to bring color to them. Amalia would sit in front Holbein next and Anne had to make sure that the King would not pick her instead of Anne. So she took a deep breath and willed her fingers to still. She gazed at the painter before her and wished she could read his expression. See if she could read how she compared to the other beauties that had sat before him. The English king was scouring Europe looking for a bride, and Anne knew the competition was great. She could never compare in beauty to the likes of Christina of Milan or even Amalia, but she was pretty enough by normal standards. Her eyes may be hooded, but they were a clear, warm brown and her fair hair was long and thick.

It also needed to be said that the English king was probably not looking for what he had already had. Anne was nothing like the previous queen's of England. Katherine of Aragon had been fierce and formidable- a woman who had helped a young prince form an empire. Yet when she had proved unable to provide a son for King Henry, she had been stubborn and relentless. She had absolutely refused to obey her husband and step down. Even on her deathbed she had declared herself his true wife and rightful queen. While admirable, Anne couldn't help but think that it was a foolish decision. Yes, the Spanish queen had declared such for her daughter, but where was Mary Tudor now? Still a king's bastard. Yes, King Henry had reconciled with his daughter, but it had been after years of hardship for the young girl. Katherine's stubbornness had brought her nothing but sorrow. If Anne was ever in a position where she would have to choose a title (however deserving of it she might be) or her freedom, she knew what she would choose.

And then there was the other Anne. The sultry, seductive temptress that had led the king on a merry dance for over a decade. The dark haired vixen had captivated all of Europe. Anne could remember her older sister Sybilla whispering about the captivating Boleyn who had bewitched the English court. They had all gossiped about the woman and how she must be. Anne had even admired the woman who shared her name from afar. Then more news had trickled into Cleves. Anne Boleyn had been accused of witchcraft,adultery and even incest. She had been arrested and tried and beheaded. Suddenly, the name Boleyn became a curse. The image of this passionate, witty, beautiful woman who had captured the kings heart had faded into an upjumped tart who had seduced the whole court with whore's tricks and been caught in her own lies.

Anne Boleyn's fate had led to hard earned lessons for the women of Cleves. As soon as King Henry's envoys opened negotiations with them, her brother had adamantly declared that they must never be seen as wanton. Never be seen as loose or moral-less women. How many times had she felt the rap of the switch on her knuckles whenever she so much as met his eyes in a way he felt was too forward? How he would react if he could see Amalia now, preening in front of the mirror.

No, Anne was nothing like the two women that had captivated King Henry his entire life. She knew very little of Jane Seymour who had finally given the king a son, but then she had only been in the kings favor about a year before the birthing bed claimed her life. If King Henry was going to pick her, it would not be because she was an imposing, gracious queen or a seductive dark siren. He would see this painting being crafted before him and see the gentleness in her smile. He would see her kind eyes and want that refreshing honesty at his court.

She adjusted her posture under the heavy finery and squeezed her hands. A lot was riding on this. On King Henry's choice.


	2. Chapter 2

**-CHAPTER 1-**

Anne glanced out the window and bit her lip. This godforsaken storm had already delayed them a week and yet still the winds raged and lightning lit the sky. She was anxious to cross the channel and step foot in her new home. Anxious to meet her future husband. The only thing keeping her from her future was this storm.

The past few months had gone by in such a blur. As soon as King Henry had sent word that Anne was to be his new queen, everything had changed. As her brother haggled with the English envoys, her mother threw herself into educating Anne in a way that had lacked throughout her childhood. Every day she sat with tutors learning the English language and history. Anne had never really been educated past how to read and write, so while fascinating, it had been overwhelming to say the least. Still, as she had left her home and joined the retinue the king had sent to escort her to England, she was grateful she had at least a basic knowledge of the language.

Her brother had also insisted that with every useful lesson she attended, she was forced to sit through hours of lectures, practically beating virtues into her. Modesty, purity, and propriety were to be her utmost concern at court. There must never be a hint of scandal to touch her reign. Had her brother's fervor come from a place of love and worry, Anne might be more sympathetic to the message. After all, hadn't Anne Boleyn lost her head due to her wantonness? Yet Anne knew her brother was not concerned with her safety. It was his own reputation on the line that was his chief motive. Anne was to be the German envoy at court and William expected her to act in a way he seemed fit. Even months later, she winced at the thought of the switch finding its mark on her knuckles. Her brother was not a kind teacher.

Luckily, Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk and the king's own brother-in-law missed the movement thanks to her heavy veil. When they had been introduced, she had asked him to teach her things about court and about the king. They were close friends since childhood and if anyone were to give her insight into the man that was to be her husband, it was he. Now she sat across from him, surrounded by chaperones, as he shuffled a deck of cards.

"Do you play cards, your highness?" he asked as he rearranged the cards.

A slight movement from her ladies made her know they were shifting in discomfort. She knew what answer was to be expected from her. That gambling and frivolous activities were beneath her and . Yet she saw the ease with which the duke turned the cards in his hands and she had asked him what the king liked to do. This game must be a popular one at English court-played by the men and the women. So she straightened her back and fought her instincts.

"I'm afraid not, your grace. Only the men in our country play cards."

The duke nodded as he shuffled before gracing her with a sympathetic smile. "I'll teach you Pique, it's not hard to play.

"Ah, that is good." Anne sighed and his smile widened at her obvious relief. He turned 4 cards over in front of her, beginning his explanation.

"There are four suits of cards: Spades, Clubs, Diamonds, and Hearts." He pointed to each suit as he spoke, but on the final card, Anne couldn't help but snort.

"Hearts? You play with hearts?" she jested earning a true smile from the duke and an angry look from her retinue. She couldn't help but be encouraged though from Brandon's reaction. She knew it unseemly for a woman to turn a jest or appear witty in anyway in Cleves, but she was starting to see that it was the opposite in England. Anne was not known for her wit, but she was also not exactly dull. As long as she kept learning and became more fluent in English, it would be easier for her. Still, the glares from her German counterparts took the satisfaction from her.

Chuckling ever so slightly, the duke responded. "Sometimes. Now, You have Kings, Queens, and Knaves." He flipped over more cards and she took her jest a step further.

"Ah! So the whole of court is here, ya?" He sent her a cheeky look before handing her a stack of coins and began dealing the cards.

Now that the game was to begin, Anne couldn't help the questions that arose in her. As she had never gambled or played against men she wasn't aware of the protocol.

"Does the king always win?"

Her words seemed to hang heavily on the man before her and she couldn't fight the uneasy feeling creeping down her spine. It was a simple question-her brother was always champion of every activity in Cleves court, she was just curious to see if his English counterpart was the same. Yet Brandon's silence and nervous face suggested it was a heavier subject than she originally intended.

Her nervousness only grew when the duke answered. "His majesty does not like losing..." the statement seemed to hover, unfinished as Brandon looked around at the silent, unfriendly faces around them. The presence of her chaperones had never before weighed on her- she had grown into adulthood under their watch, but it was clear from the duke's face and demeanor he was unused to the unyielding supervision.

When he finally did meet her gaze, the uneasiness deepened into fear. His words did little to ease her worries as he all but whispered to her. "What all have they told you about the king?" From his inflection, Anne could only surmise that there was much to be hidden about the man she was now promised to. Fear threatened to overwhelm her as her mind raced.

To be completely honest, she hadn't truly reflected over the man who was to be her husband. She had been much more focused on readying herself for queenship to actually be worrying about the man himself. Yes, she was well aware of the gossip that had spread through England. After all, King Henry was not an old man, yet he had seen three wives to the grave-and not a one of old age. Yet she had told herself that how his previous marriages had ended was not necessarily a sign of who the man was. She was eager to meet him, the golden prince who had captivated Europe, and until this moment she hadn't realized how naive she was being. King Henry may not be the escape she had always longed for. Perhaps she was wrong.

She could hear the shake in her own voice when she responded to Charles Brandon. "Why? What is it I should know?"

The duke looked beyond uncomfortable to be put in this position and for that Anne pitied him. Yet still, it was becoming all too clear to her that this was not what she was expecting and that she may be in greater danger than she had originally thought possible. The thought of the other Anne, the Boleyn queen he had loved passionately and then sent to the block rushed through her mind. The great Spanish queen Katherine who had guided him through his young reign and been a mentor and greatest love to him that he had sent from him and left to die alone. What would he do to her if she couldn't please him? She who was nothing to him. Suddenly, this trip that was to be her greatest achievement and god given opportunity was not that at all. She suddenly realized she would be fighting for her life as soon as she entered England.

With that in mind, she squeezed her hands until her nails cut into her palms and stood abruptly, startling all the occupants in the chambers.

"Out! I need everyone out right now. I need to speak with his grace alone." Anne cried in German. She was no longer the second sister of a duke of Cleves. If she were to be the next queen of England she had better act like it. And the conversation she was about to have could save her life.

Still, the German envoys sent to escort her gaped in astonishment, as did the duke himself, though she doubted he understood her words. More just surprised that such a soft-spoken woman act as such.

"That is highly inappropriate, your highness! You cannot be left unattended." one declared angrily, but Anne would not be bent by these men any longer. Still, like a flash her brother's voice cried in her head.

 _Not a hint of scandal..._

Her eyes grazed through the horde of German women staring at her in shock until they locked onto friendly eyes. Her closest friend from childhood.

"Fraulien Maria shall stay to attend and chaperone. Now, leave me." A moment passed where she believed they would directly disobey her, but after a heartbeat they all shuffled reluctantly out of the chamber.

"The door stays open." Her ambassador growled angrily into her ear as he passed and she nodded stiffly. It was a concession she could make.

Once they were gone, Anne resumed her seat opposite the wide-eyed, yet openly amused Duke of Suffolk. Even Maria was hiding a smile as she turned to watch the storm rage outside, giving the pair an appearance of privacy. Giddy on her success and eager to push the boundaries that she had lived in her whole life, she reached up and began unfastening the heavy veil. The duke watched wordlessly as she worked the ties and when it was finally free, she tugged it loose. Staring at a stranger for the first time without obstruction, she couldn't help the smile that came over her lips. She bit them though to kill it. This was a serious matter at hand, and she needed to be as prepared as possible if she were to survive.

"Now, your grace. Tell me about the king."


	3. Chapter 3

**-CHAPTER 2-**

Anne couldn't help but tap her nails against the wooden table in frustration as her ambassador railed against her. It was getting harder and harder to adhere to the strict rules her brother had imposed on her as they traveled further from Cleves. She had never felt so empowered and free than when she balked against the dictations of the man who right now was already twenty minutes in to a lengthy lecture on propriety and decorum.

"Think of what your brother would say of these matters, your highness!" The rotund man spat in haughty derision. "He would insist you return to the modesty your were raised in and not conform to these English ways!" he gestured towards her dress. Anne had abandoned the thick brocade fabrics and muslin shifts for a lighter, yet still quite modest by English standards gown. "You bring shame to your home, madam!"

Anne couldn't help her eyes from narrowing at the man who knew nothing of what he spoke of and before she knew it, her tongue was acting on its own. "My brother is not here, your grace." she snapped impatiently in German. "And he has never been to England. Have you, sire?" she knew he had not. "I cannot rule over a court of swans looking like a fat goose!" Maria, who had been quietly sewing in the corner trying to give them some privacy audibly snorted, earning a harsh glare from the ambassador.

Anne had been more than thankful that her old friend was accompanying her on this journey. After her lengthy, fear inducing conversation with the Duke of Suffolk, she and Maria had sat together and discussed what had needed to change if she were to appeal to the dangerous man that was King Henry. The first to go would be her German gowns. The English ladies that had come to help escort her to her new home had all been dressed in the thinnest of silks, with far too much skin showing as to be proper in Cleves. Their hoods had barely covered their heads, with hair showing along the sides. Anne had truly looked like a stuffed goose in comparison and she was determined to fit in ever so slightly when she arrived in England. She would still be the modest, virtuous German virgin the king had bought, but less frumpy than her brother would insist upon.

She had also asked to meet with the Duke practically nightly where she would practice her English and learn as much about English court as she could. That had earned her another lecture, but they were becoming more and more tedious of late. Anne had bigger things to worry about.

Like pleasing her future husband. Charles Brandon had told him of the kings previous wives- the gracious Katherine of Aragon, the seductive Anne Boleyn, and the mild, sweet-tempered Jane Seymour. Anne had pressed him about what had endeared each of these very different women to the king. Although the women had their own virtues, it seemed as if none of the kings marriages had been the marriage that Anne had always envisioned. One full of happiness and fidelity. King Henry would be a demanding husband-of that she was sure. She would have to please him and obey him and provide him with a healthy son as soon as possible. She doubted she could ever be a siren like the Boleyn woman who shared her name, but Anne was positive she could live up to the gentleness of both Queen Katherine and Queen Jane.

Katherine's motto had been _Humble and Loyal._ Jane's _Bound to Obey and Serve._ Anne would adopt a motto as well. _God Send me Well to Keep._ Henry had been married three times and each had ended in sorrow and pain. Anne would be his final queen- the mother to his children and partner in his old age. She would work to earn his favor and love. And if she had learned anything in the hard apprenticeship under her brutal upbringing, what Anne tried for, she achieved. Her virtues would be her steadfast obedient calming nature. She was determined to soothe the beast that was King Henry VIII.

And she would not be able to do so looking and acting like the stiff doll her brother wanted her to be.

"I understand your hesitance, your grace. I will take your advice into consideration, as always." She spoke in calm English, waving her hand to the gentleman before her, dismissing him.

He looked furious to be disregarded so flippantly, yet he did not speak a word of protest, just stomped out her door. Anne signed wearily and rubbed her fingers into her temple, chasing away the headache the ambassador had bought her.

"You'll be the death of them" Maria teased in German, but Anne shook her head.

"As they will be the death of me." she responded in English. Maria took her hint and sat opposite her.

"You are ready, yes? We sail soon." The weather was finally clearing enough for the trek across the channel into England.

"Ready as possible" Anne took out the deck of cards gifted to her by the duke. "Practice?" Maria nodded, taking the cards and shuffling them out. They were both getting much better and Anne hoped to be able to hold her own against the king and his courtiers. Suffolk had mentioned that most of the court partook in these games and Anne was thankful that he had seen to teach her at least a few games before her arrival. As she watched Maria deal out the hands, she couldn't help a pulse of fear run through her. Her German retinue was only an escort. Once she was settled in England, they would return home, leaving her alone in unfamiliar territory. She would have no friends, no one she could trust. Her eyes snapped to her friend and before she knew it she was grasping Maria's hands, disrupting her dealings.

"Will you stay with me, Maria?" she slipped back into familiar German. "In England, I mean. Will you stay as my lady?" She knew Maria would be giving up returning to her family and marrying some German nobleman, but she couldn't stomach the thought of losing her dear friend. Especially when she was bound to be surrounded by quick-speaking, delicate little English flowers once she took her place at court. She needed at least one person who she trusted to help her in this insurmountable task.

So when Maria's face split into a smile and she nodded happily, Anne was relieved. The two continued their game and conversed in stilted English until a page arrived at the door.

"Pardon, your highness," the boy spoke quickly, yet Anne understood. "I've been sent to tell you we sail at first light. Please prepare yourself and your train." He bowed shortly and turned to leave.

So this was it. It was finally time. In three days, she would reach English soil and her new home.


	4. Chapter 4

**-CHAPTER 3-**

It was freezing. And wet and gloomy and muddy. And altogether glorious.

Anne had stepped foot in England not yet three days ago and she had already fallen in love with the country she was to rule in. Every mile her carriage pulled her, the commons had rushed to the roads, careless of the constant rain that fell just for the chance of glimpsing their new, foreign queen. And Anne was determined not to disappoint.

Despite the rather loud declaration from her ambassador that the carriage panels were to remain tightly closed for the journey, Anne had barely hesitated to throw them open and wave to the crowds. Her smiles and attention had enraptured them all and what began as a few peasants had turned into large gatherings as they neared London. Each evening they would stop at some manor and be entertained by the Lord or count or duke that presided over that land. It had been rather overwhelming, but Anne had never been so grateful for her mother and Maria that she had taken up English lessons as well as dedicatedly pouring over maps of the great Land. She had rather shocked the first great Lord that had invited her into his homes when she had asked him about the history of the manor. His old, wrinkled face had split into a wide grin as he had launched into a rather lengthy story about the building and the family that had occupied it for generations.

Today however, would be an interesting one. They were to meet with the king in Kent before riding into London together and while Kent was still a few days ride away, she was to meet her new ladies and maids-in-waiting this day. Anne had taken special precaution this morning and dressed in the most English gown she owned. She knew it was suitable after seeing the sour look on her German escorts. The thin fabric was a lovely burgundy color, embroidered with gold thread and pearls. She had abandoned the heavy, German hood that had weighed heavily on her brow since childhood and while her headdress was wider and covered more, it was not unlike the French hoods that the English ladies all wore. Around her neck she wore a heavy, thick gold chain gifted by her mother as a parting gift. She still looked quite different than the pale, delicate, brightly-colored peacocks that were to be her new ladies, but perhaps that wasn't so terrible. She wasn't an Englishwoman, after all. If that is what King Henry wanted in a wife, he would have picked from any of the pretty girls that were now swirling around her. He wanted something new. And allies. With Anne he got both.

The introductions began with the maids in waiting and Anne lost count of the many Mary's and Catherine's and Elizabeth's that were paraded before her. Each young girl seemed not so different from the last and Anne wondered how she could possibly keep track of them all. They had all been sent by their families to make their fortune at court and it was Anne's duty as queen to supervise and care for them all. As a particularly pretty maid stepped forward with a few other girls and made her curtsy to the new queen with a tightly laced gown and a mischievous twinkle in her eye, Anne knew it would be harder than previously expected.

"The Ladies Katherine Howard, Mary Norris, and Dorothy Bray" introduced Lady Hart, a kind, soft-spoken gentlewoman that had joined her when her ship arrived. Lady Hart had been a godsend, especially today. Anne smiled and nodded at the girls, as she had all the others and they had stepped to the side.

When all the ladies and maids had been introduced and had given their curtsies, the Duke of Suffolk stepped forward. Anne sat a little straighter and gave a true smile to the duke, who she had come to trust and consider a friend. Brandon had turned her life around with a few simple words of advice, and she had taken it to heart. If it weren't for the wisdom he had provided, she would still be acting as a sister of Cleves, not a future queen of England.

He shared her smile and she could tell that he thought kindly of her. Perhaps his close friend, the king, would share his amusement.

"Your highness, may I introduce the Lord Privy Seal, Master Thomas Cromwell." Brandon gestured to the man beside him who offered her a deep bow.

Master Cromwell had been the mastermind behind this union and Anne knew she had him to thank for her position. She had been well aware that her brother had not made the alliance and easy one, with multiple long nights haggling away at the negotiations. Yet men like Cromwell had stayed true to the cause against the French and Spanish kings to unite the German principalities and England. She smiled brightly at the man and nodded graciously at his bow.

"Master Cromwell" she greeted pleasantly.

"Your highness, welcome to England. I bring greetings from his majesty. He is quite eager to meet his bride" Such a statement would have been obscenely forward in Cleves, yet Anne schooled her features as their English audience only tittered in amusement.

The glances from her new ladies made her realize that an equally forward response was expected from her and she cleared her throat quietly.

"As am I, my lord." She knew one of these ladies around her could come up with some pretty poetry to convey how they were looking forward to meeting their new husband, but Anne could only adapt so much. She wasn't some flattering, preening English lady-she was an honest, steadfast woman and she was sure the king would see this and like the change.

Still, her words brought out a scattering of polite applause and the women and other men were ushered out, leaving only Master Cromwell, the Duke of Suffolk, Lady Hart, Maria and Anne's stewing, unhelpful ambassador. Brandon came forward and steered Anne towards the window alcove for a bit of privacy while Cromwell distracted the German man with discussion of her household.

"How are you liking England, your highness?" he asked politely, earning another true smile from her.

"It is a wonderful country, your grace. One I am happy to call my new home!" she answered honestly.

"And are you ready for tomorrow?" he asked a little quieter. "Are you ready to meet the king?"

"Tomorrow?" Anne was surprised. She thought they were still days away from Kent where the king was set to greet her in a formal matter of state. "But I thought..."

"The king has a habit of...acting on impulses, especially when it comes to...women." the duke was obviously a little uncomfortable speaking such to her and Anne couldn't help the blush that rose in her cheeks. "He has declared his intention to ride here and surprise you." Well a surprise it would have been. Anne didn't think she would react very well if messangers had barged into her rooms with the news the king was riding towards her. How panicked she would have been. Now she could wake and dress and prepare herself to finally meet her future husband.

She glanced up at the duke and felt so grateful for this warning. She was thankful that she had this friendship with the duke. It would obviously benefit her relationship with the king to be aware of such proclivities ahead of time. She nodded gravely. "I will be ready, your grace." she whispered. "Do you have any last advice for me?"

He almost chuckled before all but whispering in her ear in a way that would have her brother fuming.

"He wants to be the knight in shining armour coming to woo a delicate maiden. Play into it." And with that warning, he bowed graciously and left her to prepare.

 **A/N: Thank you all so much for your reviews! I'm so glad people are enjoying this story. I've always loved Anne of Cleves (not only because Joss Stone is amazing) and hated what became of her. She was intelligent and gracious enough to be one of Henry's greatest queens, but history was so unkind. In this fic I just wanted to explore how a more adaptable Anne would make it. Also, France and Spain will not have trouble in their alliance until much later, so Henry really does need the Cleves alliance.**

 **Please continue to read and review as they always give me inspiration to keep updating quickly.**


	5. Chapter 5

**-CHAPTER 4-**

When they came for her in the morning she had already been awake for hours. She hoped the dark circles under her eyes would be concealed well enough with the powders that they were caking onto her face. She allowed her ladies to dress her as would befit a German princess, yet stood her ground when they moved to veil her. Anne refused to ever be veiled again. While her German counterparts frowned and grumbled, she could tell her new English ladies approved of the decision. Yet however much they had tried to push her into an English gown, Anne believed in this moment, she needed to present herself in the way he had seen her in her portrait. But while in a traditional gown, she made minor adjustments. She was sporting a German headress, wholly un-english, but Anne had let her hair fall to the sides, showing off the shiny, blonde tresses. They had presented her with a gown heavily embroidered with luxurious gold thread and around her neck, they had hung heavy, jeweled chains. She surveyed herself in the mirror before frowning slightly. She moved to unclasp the ostentatious necklace and instead pulled out a relatively simple, gold collar. She also removed the excessive earrings and replaced them with simple pearls.

She knew her brother had particularly sent instructions that she be decked with all the wealth that Cleves had to offer, yet she felt the ornaments overindulgent. The other ladies around her were not wearing anything close to the jewels Anne had been sent with and while she knew she should be dressed finer than a noble lady, she looked heavy and overburdened in the finery. With her changes, she still looked grand, yet not so foreign. Yes, this would be much better for meeting her new husband.

Yet that did not stop her when word finally came of Henry's approach from blanching and fearing the worst. She and her retinue were ushered into the main presence chamber and were all anxiously awaiting the king's arrival. Anne couldn't help the blood from rushing through her veins and the sweat from pooling on her palms. Her German counterparts did little to soothe her nerves as her ambassador repeatedly growled how important this introduction was. As if Anne was not aware that her future wholly depended on the opinion of the man riding to her. She wanted to snap at the man and send him from her side, but knew she could not. Not yet, at least.

Somewhere in the palace she heard a door slam and she knew now was the moment they were all waiting for. She could see the nerves leap in the faces around her and knew her own cheeks must be blanched. Her eyes quickly scanned the room and fell on the one friendly face: Charles Brandon. As the footsteps obviously approached, he gave her a small, encouraging smile that did little to settle her. She took a deep breath and gathered her courage.

The door behind her slammed open and she turned, wide eyed to gaze upon the man that she would wed in only a fortnight.

Henry was larger than she had imagined. Larger and older. The man had obviously been a good looking man in his youth, yet hard living had not been kind to him. The weight hung on him in a way that seemed unnatural-as if he should have been a fit man had he kept an active lifestyle. Yet his heavy limp favoring his right leg showed that perhaps his inactivity was not all his fault. The golden red hair that others had preened about had faded into a greying burnt orange and his eyes were bloodshot and looked tired. Still, the man held an air of superiority and Anne couldn't help the awe that overcame her. The whole room sank immediately into deep bows and curtseies, yet Anne took just a breath before sinking down into her own. After they were wed, Anne would have to bow to no one but the man in front of her.

He moved purposely towards her, slowing just slightly as Anne felt his gaze rake over her. Immediately she knew that the changes she had made to her attire were not enough. Surrounded by these light, fair English ladies she was entirely too foreign and ornate. When she gazed up at her husband-to-be, she could see the distaste in his eyes and she couldn't help the fear that overcame her. Silence engulfed the room as she rose from her curtsey, utterly unsure of what to do or say next. The tension in the room became palpable with each second that past without a word.

Anne couldn't help but let her gaze dart to her ambassador who was, as always, absolutely no help. The Duke of Suffolk was standing right behind him though and at his panicked gaze, the advice given the other night sprang back into her mind.

Although foreign behavior to her, she forced a smile to her lips and gazed at the man before her. Her mind searched for reference to what Suffolk had proposed. When she had been a little girl, she had received a book of fairy tales from her uncle for her birthday. Anne had spent the evening pouring over the pretty pictures and the tales inside. Of fair maidens and white knights. Now, as soon as her mother had discovered the gift, it had been immediately confiscated and burned, yet the images never left her mind. She pulled from the estranged memory now as she tried to act the part of the princess wholly ready to love and be loved.

"Majesty," she spoke, once again unendingly thankful that she had managed to grasp the English language relatively quickly. "I had not been expecting you until we arrived in Kent. What a pleasant surprise!" the words were obviously unnatural to her and she cursed herself for not being a better actress. Suffolk had told her the king had wanted to surprise her.

Still, the change was obvious as the king nodded and forced his own smile before bowing chivalrously to her. "I'm here to welcome you into my realm." She nodded politely, her cheeks starting to twitch from the smile on her lips. "I trust you are comfortable here? Before your trip to London..." It was obvious she was meant to respond, so she only widened her smile and nodded graciously. They were obviously both eager to have this encounter over with, but Anne couldn't let her nerves rule her. As he turned to leave, obviously not impressed, her mind spun again.

"Majesty!" she called, surprised at the desperation she could hear in her voice. He turned back, equally surprised and she searched her mind for the proper response. The lessons that had been ingrained into her mind her whole life fought against her instincts to survive. "W-will you not accompany me into the city?" She would have been whipped for her boldness in Cleves and she could hear a snort of disapproval come from her ambassador, but the way the king stared at her, weighing his options, made her know that the gamble was imperative. This first introduction had not been what was needed. She had been too formal, too cold with him and he had obviously not liked her much. She needed another chance at engaging with him-convincing him that she was worthy. The trip into London would be long and slow, a perfect chance to show him that she was not the frozen in fear puppet she must look like now.

Finally he nodded tersely. "We shall ride at dawn." And with another short bow, he was striding from the room. The room broke into scandalous whispers as the crowd gossiped at the less than warm first meeting between the couple. Anne turned abruptly and strode purposely towards the Duke of Suffolk.

"Your grace." her voice was shaking in fear and she forced the tears welling in her eyes not to fall.

"That was not so bad, your highness..." the pity was evident in his tone and eyes and Anne shook her head emphatically.

"Come. Talk with me. Advise me. I have much to improve if I am to make it to London."


	6. Chapter 6

The ride through Kent was not much better, but Anne was determined. King Henry rode by her side but seemed insistent on being difficult. She glanced back at Maria who gave her an encouraging nod. They had talked the whole night, brainstorming topics of conversation that might interest her future groom. But no matter how many times she prompted him about the land or his subjects, pressing him to engage, he would just reply gruffly. Anne could tell that he was irritated by her halting speech and foreign dress. No matter that she had tried desperately to dress in a way that was more appealing than the night before- she could not change everything about herself in a day! Once settled at court, she would order a seamstress to make her a brand new wardrobe-one that would not clash so thoroughly with the fashions in England. But that would not help her now, in this silent, awkward procession through the countryside.

Anne shifted slightly uncomfortably. While she had ridden before, she was no horsewoman and her thighs were aching at the exertion. Her future husband seemed to notice her discomfort and, however grudgingly, suggested they stop for the night. Anne had been grateful for this small mercy and had sent him a kind smile as he waved for them to pull off the road-one he returned with a tight smile of his own though it looked forced. Still, as Anne settled into the rooms that would house her for the night and changed from her riding habit, she couldn't help but be reinvigorated by his Majesty's kindness. She had failed to draw him in during their ride, but perhaps at dinner she could make him see how desperate she was to make things work between them. She kept that in mind as her maids brought forth her gown for the evening. A gown far more decadent and revealing than anything she had ever worn or even seen in Cleves. But as she shrugged on the slip of cloth and draped her neck with fine jewels, she reminded herself again and again that she was no longer in Cleves. This would be her new life and if she was unable to conform, she was afraid of what would happen to her.

So she went out to dine, feeling like a fattened calf facing slaughter. Her brother had sold her to this man who would have absolute power over her and Anne knew she needed to please him. So she painted on what she hoped was a winning smile and took her place by the king's side. She watched the king converse with this lord or that and tried her best to keep up with the easy flow of conversation. She was glad that only a few times was she not sure of what was being said and her translator, a dour old man, stood behind her, unnecessary.

Although he largely ignored her, Anne could see the tension lifting from the king's face as he relaxed. She took the time to observe him. He was a large man, and watching the way he crammed everything in sight down his throat, it was not hard to imagine how he got to that state. Though despite his girth, and greying hair, he was not wholly unattractive. If she looked past the fleshiness in his cheeks, she could see his clear, blue eyes which when they were not darting around suspiciously, were quite beautiful. As she watched him converse with his courtiers, she could tell that he could be charming when he wished-able to turn a jest and make even the stony face men present laugh. She thought the man could do with some more exercise, but otherwise could still be the handsome king he was known to be throughout Christendom. He would never be the darling boy king again, something he clearly resented, but perhaps she could help guide him into his later adult life. Perhaps together, however far into the future, they would find happiness.

He did not speak to her again the rest of the night outside of curtly wishing her well as they parted. Yet as Anne crawled under her sheets, she felt better than when she had started the day. She was still afraid of what was to come, but observing the man that she would call her husband so soon, she knew she could find something to love him. He was not the monster they had insinuated he was. All she had to do was convince him of her worth.

...

...

"I tell you, Charles: I have not been well handled in this." Henry grunted as his servants poured them both goblets of wine.

Brandon kept silent, not knowing quite what to say. He had found the Cleves girl charming, if a little too innocent for his tastes. Still, she was a sweet, gentle thing and pretty enough. Obviously had a fire in her that others seemed oblivious to. They all thought she was wildly naive, but Brandon knew better. Innocence did not mean naivety. He didn't know quite what Henry was objecting to so fiercely, but knew better than to try to convince him otherwise.

So the silence ticked on as Henry drank deeply before slamming his goblet down. "Did Cromwell not speak of her beauty? The _desirability_ of my marriage to her?" The sarcastic bite in Henry's tone was not lost on Charles, who covered his discomfort with taking a swig from his own cup. "And now here she is, with the face of a flanders mare." Brandon coughed slightly to curb his own retort. Anne may not be an English rose or a french coquette, but she was not ugly by any stretch. Brandon rather liked her open features and her kind smile. There was no lie in those honest eyes of hers. It was refreshing compared to all the practiced, perfumed snakes at court. But again, he held his tongue and nodded as if he agreed. "She should never have been brought here." Henry growled lowly, fingering the golden craftsmanship of his goblet absentmindedly. "Tell me, Charles. What is the remedy?"

"I'm afraid I don't know, Your Majesty. Perhaps if you got to know the lady better...?" But Henry only rolled his eyes.

"Do you know that Francis had Charles welcome to his court? They are great friends again, though just last year that French braggart called him a Spanish dog. Yet they are united now and England left defenseless. God help me, Charles, for what I must sacrifice for the good of my realm." Henry looked truly weary, as if welcoming a young woman to his side was such a hardship.

They sat in silence again, Brandon unable to curse the Cleves woman as Henry so wanted, yet equally unable to stand up for her. Henry seemed lost in his own thoughts though, watching the flames crackle in the fireplace before downing his cup.

"You may go." He dismissed, standing and groaning from the effort. "Lord knows we will all need our rest for the journey into London." He clapped his hand on Brandon's shoulder and gave him a tight smile before limping off to his bedchamber, leaving Charles to stare into the flames.


	7. Chapter 7

The ride into London was spectacular. The sheer size of the city was enough to dwarf any other Anne had seen in Cleves and while she was exhilarated by the thought that this was her new home, it also bit at the back of her mind how woefully out of place she must seem. This dowdy, German country noble surrounded by all the wealth and elegance of the English courtiers. But the commons of the city were happy at the sight of her, even if the English nobles still turned their noses up at her manners and dress. Anne couldn't help the wide smile that came to her face at the crowds cheers and she made sure to wave to them and look as delighted at their attention as she truly felt. She savored their cheers and well wishes in her heart, knowing that she had a long road to acceptance in front of her. Thank God her new people were easy to please.

Though even the king, the hardest to please she had met, rode beside her with an almost boyish grin painted on his face. It was the most joyful she had seen him in her presence and she felt her own smile grow ever larger at the sight. At one turn in the city streets, Henry made a show of taking her hand in his and bringing her fingers to his lips. The pageantry brought out a roar of approval from his subjects and he even winked at her, causing her to laugh and blush at his attentions. It was the happiest she had been since meeting her future husband.

But her joy was short lived as they came upon Whitehall Palace (no doubt five times the size of her brother's residence in Duren) and she was escorted through the gates of her new home. The moment they disappeared from the crowd's sight, Henry moved away from her, pulling his horse alongside those of his gentleman instead. She had hoped to catch a moment to speak with him, but her hopes were dashed when they reached the courtyard and the King entered his palace without a backwards glance.

Anne was helped to her feet and stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do and where to go. Thankfully, Lady Hart stepped forward along with a severe looking woman. They both dipped a curtsy and Lady Hart gave her a kind smile.

"Your highness, will you follow us to your apartments?" Anne nodded graciously and followed the women into the castle, her train of ladies and maids following her excitedly. Anne couldn't help but smile at the girls in her train-already growing used to having them follow her every movement. She was sure it would grow tiring quickly, always being attended, but until it became exhausting, it made her smile.

She allowed Lady Hart to escort her and her ladies through the palace, her eyes growing wide at the magnificence before her. The castle was opulent, rich tapestries adorned the walls and Henry's rose emblem etched at practically every corner. The opulence overshadowed anything she had ever seen before and it was overwhelming. She would be queen of this court-this would be her home. Every courtier they passed stepped out of their way and sunk into respectful bows. Murmurs of 'Your Highness' followed the crowd and Anne struggled to keep the gracious, kind smile on her lips. She knew so many of these respectful greetings would turn into harsh criticisms once she was out of earshot.

"Here we are, your highness," The stern faced woman, Jane Boleyn, clipped as they approached a wide set of doors. "The official queen's apartments are still being refurnished for your highness, but should be complete by the wedding date. Until then, His Majesty has allocated these apartments for your use." A pair of sentries jumped forward and revealed the space to Anne who tried desperately to hide the shock and awe that must have shown from her face. She couldn't have her ladies gossiping about the country girl set up to be Queen of England. After all, these weren't even the queen's rooms which would no doubt be all the more grand and lavish. So she schooled her features to a mild, approving, pleased smile and stepped forward to appraise the spaces.

She spent the afternoon settling herself into her household and trying her best to learn the faces of her new ladies. Maria stood by her to help, as well as her official translator though, thankfully, Anne did not need him as much as she thought she would. Her grasp of the English language had been improving ever since stepping foot in the country and she was glad for it-knowing that whenever she had to lean towards the interpreter, the English ladies tittered at her stupidity.

It was late in the evening, when Anne was preparing for bed, not having heard a word from the king, when her ambassador came calling, a grave look painted on his face. Anne quickly dismissed her ladies with a wave of her arm and drew the man into a private alcove.

"A message from the king?" Anne hoped that her future husband would not let her spend her first night in his palace without a word. But her query only surprised the man, who looked momentarily shook from his task.

"You have not heard from him?" He asked, worry laced in his voice. "Ach, no matter. No, I do not come from the king. I have just had word of new developments and came right to you with it." His rapid German was softly whispered, even though there was no eavesdroppers nearby. Certainly none that could understand his words.

"What news?"

"From France. The Holy Roman Emperor and King Francis have signed a treaty, uniting the two countries. Your marriage to the king is now more important that ever-for England as well as for Cleves. You must do your best to draw His Majesty's attention to the necessary alliance he is getting with your marriage. You said he has not sent word... Is he still cold to you?"

Anne took a moment to glance around the room quickly, making sure there were no unnoticed ears listening in. Her ladies seemed to be entertaining themselves and while a few eyes were cast their way, no recognition were in them. It was the closest she felt like she would get to privacy now that she was to be queen. She turned back to her ambassador and tried to look pleased, though her words were weighted.

"He does not seem so pleased with me, no. And I am unsure of how to reach him. What do you advise?" She hoped beyond hope that the man sent to guide her in this foreign country would be able to help her someway find peace here. But the man just looked up at her, pity in his eyes.

"You must please him. Our fate depends on it." Was the only advice he gave before bowing and leaving her to her thoughts.


	8. Chapter 8

News of the French-Imperial alliance was all anyone was talking about the morning of her wedding to the king. Anne had half expected Henry to delay their nuptials considering how cold he had been to her the past few weeks, but the ceremony went on as planned. As Anne dressed herself in a fine silver cloth gown and let them drape heavy, jewel-encrusted chains over her shoulders, she thought how odd this all was. She was about to walk down to a man she barely knew. The only thing she was really sure of is that he was in complete control of her future and that he did not like her. What a way to start a marriage.

She glanced around at all her merry maids, helping her prepare for the day. One, little Kitty Howard, was prancing around in a gown cut so low there was no way it was appropriate. The girl radiated pure joy and youth and Anne was sure any man glancing between the two of them would prefer a flighty thing like Kitty to her own drawn, sullen face. Trying to emulate at least a fraction of the carefree attitude her maid was presenting, Anne made her way towards the chapel.

The ceremony went by as smoothly as could be expected, though Anne couldn't help but be insulted that Henry went through it will an air of such reluctance she would be amazed if all present were not aware of his true feelings. When he had approached her, he looked sickened and Anne herself blanched. The bishop presiding over the ceremony either did not notice the clear disinclination between the pair before him, or did not comment on it as he began the ritualistic vows. Anne tried not to focus on Henry's puffs of annoyance or heavy sighs as she promised to cleave herself to him. She could see him almost roll his eyes as he slipped the ring on her finger and she officially became his wife. As king shouldn't he be able to hide his thoughts better than this? He obviously didn't like her so much, but was she so terrible that he approach the wedding altar looking so stricken? That he recite his vows as if at knife-point? She may not be smiling and pleasing like these ladies he was used to, but she was not hideous or so repulsive. It was not as if he was the most desired bachelor in Christendom either. He had already seen three wives into the ground-and not a one of old age. He was older than her by a good 20 years and his thickening waist line contrasted greatly with his thinning hair. By all rights, it should be she facing this marriage with trepidation.

Her pride piqued, they spent the wedding feast barely speaking, only glancing at each other occasionally. She focused on speaking with the people who would be her courtiers after tonight. She enjoyed speaking with the older men and women at court, quizzing them over the things they've seen over the years. As she spoke with the older group, she waved her hand, signalling her younger, restless ladies join the dancing that had begun. She smiled fondly as they rushed to take their places and clapped as each dance came to a conclusion. After an hour or so, Anne could honestly say she was truly enjoying herself, pleased with how she had managed to immerse herself in this court where she stuck out so sorely. She had all but forgotten the painfully awkward way the day had begun.

She was laughing at one particularly humorous story from Charles Brandon when she caught the king staring at her. The laughter died in her throat, but the look in his eyes was not nearly as terrifying and dampening as it had been that morning. It was more curious than disgusted and she almost thought she saw a hint of approval in his gaze. She managed a small smile to him and was hopeful to see him nod slightly before his attention turned elsewhere.

The evening progressed without further issue and Anne was pleased to see that the dread that had been etched into Henry's face this morning had smoothed itself out. Whether it was due to the wine or his own accord, Anne did not want to focus on. When they were to retire for the evening, a few bawdy jokes were thrown their way, making Anne blush, but Henry just waved them off good-naturedly, throwing his own witty barbs back to the crowd. It was such a sharp contrast from how he was behaving in the chapel that Anne was reeling.

She allowed her ladies to lead her to her chambers and prepare her for her husband's visit. She tried her best to calm her racing heart as the minutes ticked by. When Lady Hart discreetly offered her a goblet of wine, Anne drank it down gratefully. Anything to soothe her nerves. But it didn't stop her (or any of her ladies, honestly) from jumping slightly as the chamber door opened and the king and his retinue entered.

Anne tried not to look so frightened as the king dismissed their attendants in a short command and the room emptied. Tried not to wince as the door slammed shut, leaving the two alone for the first time.

He stared at her for a moment or two before taking a step closer to her and taking her chin in his hands, raising her gaze to meet his. Desperately thinking of the Duke's advice, Anne did not shy from his stare, refusing to look away from him. When he leaned in to kiss her lips, she tried to throw every lesson her mother and brother had beaten into her away, forcing herself to respond as warmly as she could. She even allowed a hand to reach out and grip his arm as he kissed her, clinging to him and praying that he would be gentle with her. She didn't know much about the marriage bed-only that it would hurt. This man who's breath was quickening as he kissed her did not know her or care enough to treat her kindly or worry about her pain. She felt one tear slip unbidden down her cheek and Henry stopped his ministrations. Surprising her, he brushed it tenderly away and the look in his eyes was unlike anything Anne had seen in him before.

"Don't be afraid..." He murmured gently before kissing her again, guiding her towards the bed. As she fell back into the pillows she watched him pull the chemise over his shoulders. Apprehension flooded her, but he smiled at her soothingly, touching her shoulder and rubbing warm circles into the shivering skin. It was night and day from the man he had been this morning at the church and Anne felt herself relax slightly. He kissed her neck, pressing towards her and while she was still as nervous as she had ever been in her life-her fears were slowly melting away.


	9. Chapter 9

As Charles waited for his king to join the council meeting the morning after the wedding, he couldn't help feeling anxious. Quite a bit was riding on how the king felt his morning. He knew how Henry had felt going into the marriage...he could only hope that the Cleves girl had pleased him last night. If she had not, she was lost. Her only saving grace was the continued friendship between France and the Holy Roman Empire. King Francis and the Emperor had just signed a treaty, promising the Infanta Juana to the young Duke of Orleans and as long as their friendship lasted, England was without allies. They would need Cleves and the forces her brother was providing. But still, being a needed but unwanted queen was not a fate he would wish on the girl. And tip toeing around an angry king would not do well for him at all. Especially considering he had been one of the many that had advocated for this union. He knew he was not the only gentleman in the chamber who was worried.

So when Henry arrived moments later, a hush fell over the gathered lords. Normally the morning after a wedding there would be bawdy jokes and the men would tease their sovereign about the nights activities, knowing that it would be met with good humor. Today, however, there was close to silence as they waited to see how the king would act. Charles scrutinized Henry's expression, trying to see what he was feeling, but was surprised to see his face rather clear of any emotion. If anything, he just looked a little tired, but not angry or sullen. Though not filled with joy either. But surely that was a good sign? Henry Tudor was not known to be good at hiding his emotions in any way. In fact, even when certain meetings hinged on the man being able to fake his way through a polite conversation there was a good chance Henry would be unable to conceal his ire or irritation. So if he didn't leave his marriage bed with a face like thunder, it meant the girl pleased him. At least enough.

"Your Majesty" Charles broke the awkward silence, approaching his friend with what he hoped was a winning smile. "How are you this fine morning?" He could hear a murmur behind him, probably that cold fish, Edward Seymour, but he ignored it, instead focusing intently on Henry's reaction.

"Well enough." the king responded gruffly, though not angrily before taking his seat. As the rest of the gentleman took their places at the table, Charles at the king's right, he murmured more quietly "I've done my duty. Pray God this alliance with the German's makes it worth it."

Charles nodded, biting down pity for their new queen. Perhaps with time she could learn how to truly please him. Perhaps there could be affection, even if there was never love between them. He thought back to the moment she had sent her retinue away those weeks ago in Calais and demanded that he speak with her honestly. The will to survive had been palpable in her determined eyes. He had been impressed with the ladies strength, something she would need if she were to bend these stubborn courtiers to her will. Henry always admired strength, perhaps he would find it in her. Though he doubted the girl would ever inflame him quite like the women he had married before. No, she would never match the childhood love Henry held for the doomed Catherine or the intense passion he had shared with the coquette Anne. But if she held out long enough to fall child and give him another son, and if she kept the gentleness he had seen in her, she had the potential to eventually gain the respect that the king had held for his beloved Jane.

But for this morning, when the king was feeling quite sorry for himself (though less so than what Brandon had originally feared) he clapped his hand on Henry's shoulder, giving him a sympathetic smile. It might even backfire on the poor girl if he were to act like Henry had nothing to be disappointed in. As if bedding a young, fresh woman was not the hardship Henry clearly saw it as. But his actions were rewarded with a brotherly grin and he knew he had the right of it. Unlike Thomas Seymour.

Brandon was sure the man was infuriated by the relationship he had with the king. The brotherhood they shared had formed when they were children and had lasted through multiple hardships. Although they did not share blood, they were as close to brothers as could be. For someone who had boasted a legal brotherhood with the king, Seymour was jealous of the friendship and was always thrusting himself forward. As he did now.

"And the queen? How does she fare?" Immediately a scowl came over Henry's features and Charles winced, cursing the damn Seymour fool in his mind. All his words did was call attention to the woman who had been a disappointment.

"The _queen_ is just fine, Master Seymour." Henry practically spat the title as he settled down into his seat.

The other gentleman took the hint and quickly got away from the subject, throwing themselves into the ruling of the kingdoms. After an hour or so, Henry called the meeting to a halt, claiming he needed to take some air. Brandon was pleased when the king turned to him and asked him for his company.

They chatted aimlessly for a bit. Henry asked about his nephew, little Lord Edward, and Charles told him of the little boy's successes with his tutors. After a bit, they lapsed into a comfortable silence and Charles couldn't hold back his questions any longer.

"Was last night so awful, your majesty?" He asked tentatively.

Henry just rolled his eyes. "She's just so... so damned stiff! She was a block of ice! You know she cried after...as if I was beast who had ravaged her. Well she need not worry for our duty is done and I will not be repeating it any time soon." He huffed, building his heavy furs closer to him.

Charles nodded thoughtfully, though his mind was racing. Of course she was stiff and afraid-she had for certain never been so intimate with a man before. She was a true maid. And that's when it hit him. Henry had probably never laid with a true virgin before last night-or even if he had (Jane probably was intact) the women had been pushed towards the royal bed, receiving coaching from their ambitious families on how to act. Hell, this was probably the first woman who had even approached the royal bed with trepidation. Even the ladies who acted coy and reluctant did so only to inflame him further. Anne was the first honest woman put into King Henry's bed.

And she should not be punished for it.

So Charles glanced over at his sovereign with a coy smirk. "A true maid, there. I've had tears once before. Nice to know you're the first, eh?" he jabbed his friend playfully with his elbow, praying that his banter would help alleviate blame from the girls shoulders.

Thankfully, Henry's eyes widened and his pace faltered-as if he had never considered that her wooden actions would stem purely from inexperience. "But...but I've had virgins before and they never acted quite so... so..." he faltered.

"Innocent?"

"So naive." He said the word like it was an insult and Charles chuckled again.

"Oh don't look so down, Henry! It's good to get them like that. You can teach her everything she needs to know! Besides, isn't it refreshing? To know without any doubt that she is the maiden she claims to be?"

Henry's brow furrowed slightly but he nodded, finding sense in Brandon's words.

"It'll be worth the wait and the effort it takes. I promise!" He felt foolish for promising his king something that had nothing to do with him, but he felt sympathy for the girl and found himself wanting her to be happy. Besides, the scowl was slowly lifting from Henry's face with every word.

Finding some level of optimism, Henry nodded and clapped his friend on the back, finally giving him a carefree grin.

"You know, you might be right, Charles!"


	10. Chapter 10

One month. She had been married only a month. Wedded and bedded. The sealed alliance between the German Principalities and the English throne was bought with her maidenhead. Anne did not feel quite so different, although her life had changed so drastically. She had not ever truly thought of her wedding night before she had been shipped off to England. Her mother and certainly her brother had insisted that she not concern herself with wanton thoughts and only grit her teeth and do her duty. But the night she had shared with the king, while utterly terrifying being so intimate with a man who held such power over her and that she barely knew, had not been the hardship that her mother had described. She was not a woman who knew much of the world or what went on between man and wife, but she knew the king had been tender with her. There had been pain, of course, as she was a maiden, but it had not been nearly as bad as she had expected. She was ashamed that she had cried afterwards, but losing one's innocence was not something to be taken lightly. Still, she had recovered quite well and by morning she had been as optimistic as possible about her budding relationship with her husband.

But a whole month had gone by and he had not revisited her bed.

He was kind enough when propriety had dictated that they appear in public together. In the great hall, when they would meet for supper, he would smile at her, call her sweetheart as he inquired after her health, kiss her fingers and lead her up to her seat beside him. But he would not speak to her much outside of the necessary courteous comments. He never sought her presence in private and he had not joined her in her bed again.

A part of her knew that she should be much more concerned with this snub ,but she couldn't find it within her to be upset. Although technically the queen of this court, there was still so much she was unsure of-in and out of her marriage. She knew it would take time to be comfortable presiding over the courtiers as well as finding a balance in her relationship with the king.

So she watched everyday, learning about these foreigners she was supposed to rule. The English court was nothing like the one her brother held in Cleves. The pure opulence and vanity that drove these people was almost impressive. Gentlemen and ladies mingled often, flirting in hallways, walking in the gardens, gambling, and dancing in the evenings. It was so unlike the atmosphere she had been raised in where the genders were strictly separated, women taught to never attract the eyes so that they did not appear unseemly. But here, being able to stand out in the crowd was a virtue. Women did everything they could to set themselves apart and catch the eyes of every man they could. Their gowns were made of the thinnest of materials, showing enough skin to make her brother faint. But she knew she had to immerse herself in this culture if she was ever able to be successful in earning their respect and love. She met with her royal dress makers and ordered dozens of new gowns-not as revealing and ostentatious as her ladies, but still much more...English in nature. She quite enjoyed working with the women and made sure to pay them well, offering her compliments and promising to take their advice as new fashions became available.

It was beginning to get easier making friends among the courtiers as well. She had already created an easy relationship with Lady Elizabeth-Bess- Hart when she had been inducted into England but she soon found favorites in Lady Margaret Dymoke and Lady Elizabeth Somerset. That plus Maria and the Duke of Suffolk's wife, Lady Catherine Brandon, gave her a nice surrounding of friendly faces. She knew better than to think all her ladies gave her the loyalty their positions demanded. She knew the majority of her ladies and maids would watch her with seasoned eyes, hoping for her failure. It was not unheard of in this court for the king to look among the ladies at court when he was unsatisfied with his wife. One of these girls might even have an eye on her throne.

Already they were trying. Lady Rochford had not hesitated to inform her of the king's dalliances. The harsh woman had seemed almost eager to point out the king's latest mistress, Lady Mary Skipwith. Lady Rochford had made quite the show of pity when she had relayed the information, but Anne had waived her off, insisting that it was no matter-that the king would do as he wished and it was of no concern of her. Anne had heard plenty of her predecessors mistakes of objecting strongly to the king's infidelities and was adamant that she would never do the same. But then, it was probably easier for her than the women he had married for love. What had broken their hearts had come as almost a relief to her-knowing that the king was willing to give her some time before coming to her bed again. But she had been thankful for the insight to know which of her ladies was actively working against her. Lady Skipwith was no threat to her- not as long as the French-Imperial alliance stood. The girl was a flighty thing anyway and would probably not hold the king's attention for long. Besides, Henry needed her brother and would never offend him by directly insulting his sister flaunting a mistress after only a month of marriage. And by the time the French king and the Spanish Emperor's friendship waned (a certainty at some point) perhaps she will have settled enough to charm the king on her own. Until then, Lady Mary was welcome to warm her husband's bed and keep him happy.

"Your Majesty?" An impatient voice broke Anne out of her thoughts and she jumped slightly, turning to face the maid who had approached her.

It was clear that it had not been the first time little Kitty Howard had tried to get her attention, but she had been lost in her thoughts. She gave a small apologetic smile to the girl, despite her impertinence. She must always remember that all these girls were well connected and to never offend unless lines were crossed. Even this haughty little girl was niece to the Duke of Norfolk-one of the highest peers in the realm.

"Yes, Mistress Howard? Is it time to go down to dinner?"

"Yes, madam. Your gown is ready."

Anne rose and made her way into the privy chamber where the new gown was laid out by her ladies. It was a lovely gown, rich black velvet overlaid with a beautiful gold brocade stomacher. A lovely cloth of gold collar finished the look giving her a neat, gracious look without being nearly as dowdy as the gowns she brought from home. She would still stand out from the English ladies in their pastels, but she thought the darker colors suited her just fine. The pearly blues and pinks and golds would wash her coloring out with her slightly olive skin and her rich honey hair.

She dictated that Lady Rochford fetch her a beautifully ornate pendant to go around her neck and a bright golden tiara and that Maria step forward to pull her curls into a delicate bun. She gave a quick mischievous smile to her friend when the German woman pulled a few locks to frame her face. Having spent their entire lives behind tight hoods and veils, it was a learning curve for them both to have their hair worn like the English ladies. But the result was satisfactory and even the fashionable Mistress Howard didn't grimace at the finished look. Anne smiled triumphantly and led her ladies to supper.


	11. Chapter 11

A few days later she received a summons. The king wanted to present her with his children and Anne was thrilled. She knew it was her duty to provide for her new stepchildren, but these poor children were all left motherless for different reasons, and Anne was looking forward to getting to know each of them and forming friendships with them. Until she had a child of her own, they would be the closest she would have and she was determined to have positive relationships with them all. She had heard about Mary's graciousness, Elizabeth's cleverness, and of Edward's sweetness. Each child had inherited the best of their mothers-Anne only hoped her own children would be as impressive. So Anne readied herself as best she could, swathed in a gown of lovely brown velvet trimmed with rich sables, and headed to the great hall.

When she entered and the court sank into their bows, Henry turned towards her with a genuine smile, the eagerness to see his children plain. He stepped forward and took her hands. Pressing a kiss to her fingers, he turned her towards the entrance again.

"My Lady, I hope you are well." Anne nodded, returning his smile with one of her own. "I have some important guests to introduce you to today..." He waved an arm to the sentries who pulled the door open to reveal the king's children. "My daughters, The Princess Mary," The eldest stepped forward first and sank into a graceful curtsey.

"Madam," the girl murmured before rising and taking Anne's appearance in. The princess was a lovely young woman, brown curls tumbling over her shoulder, pinned back with a pearl headdress. Her eyes were guarded, and Anne could see the judgement in them. This was not a girl who wanted a mother-she would probably resent any effort of the sort. Besides, Anne would never be able to fill Katherine of Aragon's shoes. But perhaps they could be friends.

So Anne just nodded her greeting, giving the girl a friendly smile before the king gestured for his other daughter to step forward. "and the Princess Elizabeth."

The sweet girl that approached her showed none of the reservations that Mary clearly had. A shy smile stretched on her lips as she stepped forward and bobbed her curtsey. This child probably could not remember her mother and with the way Anne Boleyn disgraced herself no doubt led to uncertain receptions from her father. She had gained and lost the title of princess several times in the last year alone. The little one was clearly desperate to be loved and Anne's heart went out to her. She held a bouquet of freshly cut poppies and held them out to Anne.

"For you, I think they are pretty."

Her guilelessness brought a true smile to Anne's lips and she bent to take them from her. "Thank you, princess. I think you are pretty too!" The little girl beamed at the compliment, a pretty blush rising to her cheeks, but Anne couldn't help but notice the quizzical stare coming just over the girls shoulder from the Princess Mary. She didn't have time to dwell on what the weighted gaze meant, as Henry gestured for his son to be presented next.

While Henry had been almost pensive as he introduced his daughters, all traces of melancholy evaporated as the little boy was paraded in front of them, stumbling along on unsure feet, clutching the hand of his governess. A wide grin came over his features as he surveyed his son as the toddler made a neat little bow. "This is my son, Prince Edward. Edward, this is my wife, your new stepmother. Say hello to her" he whispered the last into the boys ear, who giggled as his breath tickled his ear.

"Hello, madam!" the boy squealed to the delight of the court. Anne herself felt her heart melting at the sight and bent down so that they were at eye level.

"Hello, your grace! It is a pleasure to meet you!" the boy grinned and Anne squeezed his chubby little hand before rising and turning to her husband.

"I will love them like they are my own," she promised and the way he smiled at her was warmer than he ever had before.

...

That evening as the court prepared to dance, for the first time Henry settled into his throne beside her instead of joining the dancing. Anne kept the surprise from her face as she turned to him with a smile. "You have such beautiful children, your majesty. Thank you for bringing them to court-I was glad to meet them. The Prince Edward is such a sweet child. And your daughters are so lovely. You should be proud."

"I am...I am" he nodded, his eyes glued to Lady Mary Skipwith who swirled on the dance floor.

"I would like to get to know them better. Shall the remain at court for long?"

"Perhaps." He mused, turning his attention away from the dancers. I had thought to provide the Princess Mary permanent lodgings at court. She is old enough now it would do her good to meet visiting envoys."

Anne couldn't help the wide smile that came over her lips. If the Princess was to be living at court, she was sure she would be able to form a friendship with her. "She is a beautiful lady, do you have a match in mind for her?" Anne could think of the several cousins she had of marriageable age. Perhaps she could convince her husband to solidify their alliance with a match with the Princess and another German prince or noble.

But Henry just waved his arm dismissively. "Not yet, she's still young. But I should think of it soon..." The pair watched as the girl in question moved gracefully before them, dancing with cool elegance. "Though I would not like my son Edward to come to court too often. for fear he could catch an infection. He belongs in the country."

Anne nodded, understanding his reservations. "And the Princess Elizabeth?"

Instantly the contentment vanished in her husband's eyes as they narrowed into the crowd, finding the girl in question. "Elizabeth will stay at Hatfield." He murmured, though not angrily.

Anne's smile faded as he stared at his daughter-a sweet, innocent child- as if she had wronged him, as if his love for her was tainted by the memory of what her mother had done. She had heard at a distance the fall of Anne Boleyn, but had not thought too much of it outside of a warning against wanton behaviour. As she examined her husbands intent gaze towards the woman's daughter, she felt her heart grow heavy. In Cleves and throughout Christendom, Anne Boleyn was a symbol of change in England and later a symbol of shamelessness and promiscuity. But here in England, to Henry and Elizabeth, she had been a wife and mother. A wife who had betrayed her husband and wounded him deeply. It was no surprise that he find it difficult to treat Elizabeth as he should-though it was still wrong. The girl was innocent of all wrong doing and Henry was the only parent she had. Sympathy oozed through Anne at the tragic situation between father and daughter and before she knew it, she was reaching to take Henry's hand. He jumped slightly and instinctively his fingers tightened around hers as his eyes snapped to hers.

"As you wish, your majesty..." Anne almost whispered, squeezing his hand in solidarity. He nodded quickly before rising and making his way to Lady Skipwith, who grinned triumphantly as he took her hand. Anne watched him go without protest.

As she watched the court swirl in time to the music below her, she breathed deeply. What a place she had come to. Henry, Mary, Elizabeth, and even Edward were struggling. Each child left motherless and Henry himself betrayed and used. They were wounded creatures. Anne could only hope she could provide the motherly, healing balm they would all need. The kind of queen England needed.


	12. Chapter 12

The king had tired of his mistress. Lady Skipwith, who just last week had been prancing around court in a new gown with a challenging smile on her lips, now carried out her duties with red rimmed eyes and a bowed head. Anne had overheard some of her maids gossiping about the lady's fall from favor. About how there had been some petty argument and how the king had practically thrown the woman out of his chambers half dressed. Anne was genuinely surprised the woman was even still at court after angering the king in such a way, but Lady Rochford (ever pushing herself into her confidences) assured her it was only a matter of finding a minor nobleman willing to take the strumpet to wife-ridding the king of her presence without causing a scandal. Henry could send the woman from court without a formal reason but they all knew he had been trying to keep his affairs out of the public eye. And sending the girl from court without reason would certainly raise some questions. If Anne's brother heard that the king had kept a mistress only months into the marriage, it would not do well for the alliance.

Not that anyone would care that it offended Anne personally-oh no. But it would be an insult to Cleves and the duke would not suffer any ill treatment from England. And while the French king and the Spanish Emperor were still joined at the hip, the German principalities were essential for England's security.

Many whispered that it was the king's growing feelings for his wife that led to the falling out with his mistress, but Anne knew in her heart that it had naught to do with her. While the king had certainly been warmer towards her as of late, he had yet to visit her bed again. While her ladies and her ambassador seemed worried about the lack of attention, Anne herself remained stubbornly positive. The marriage had been consummated and they had the rest of their lives to become closer. Also, Anne herself was still young and had many years before infertility became a factor. She was determined to be a good wife to the king, but also a good queen for his country and a good mother to his children.

She glanced in the mirror at her appearance and smiled slightly at her reflection. She would have been whipped for impropriety in Cleves, but she had to admit that English fashions suited her. The olive fabric was accented by dark gold lace dotted with pearls and the cut left her shoulders and tops of her breasts bare. A thick burnished gold chain wrapped around her neck and a matching tiara rested on her head. She looked young and fresh-perfect for her audience this morning.

When Princess Mary was led into her chambers, Anne felt her heart thud heavily in her chest. The woman was a few years her junior, but compared to Anne's smooth, sunkissed complexion, Mary's strained, waxy face made her look older by far. Her stiff black gown did little to help her and Anne mentally made a note to send her dressmakers to the young princess. Mary was a beautiful girl under her hard eyes and Anne wanted to see her look the part.

Mary had not had an easy life, Anne knew. Raised as a cherished princess only to see her beloved mother tossed aside and repudiated and her own rights denied to her. She knew it was only due to her predecessor, the beloved Queen Jane, that Mary had been brought back into her father's good graces. Anne was determined to follow in Jane's footsteps and welcome the princess with open arms. Mary did not need another mother. But she desperately needed a friend. And it was passed time the girl was wed. She should be a mother herself by now. Cherished and loved with a family of her own.

"Princess" Anne faced the girl with a friendly smile.

"Madam," Mary clipped, a bit shortly. But the girl sank into a quick, elegant curtsey nonetheless-showing her respect towards her father's wife. Anne's smile widened as she gestured to the chairs beside her. Mary hesitated only slightly before sinking into one of them.

As Anne took her own seat, she observed her guest. She knew the princess would be guarded when speaking to her. Afterall, the girl had lost her own beloved mother so soon in life and had already had two step mothers-now on the third. Anne had heard whispers of the animosity between the princess and the Boleyn woman and of the friendship she had shared with Jane Seymour. She did not blame her for facing her newest stepmother with trepidation.

Anne wanted to set her at ease.

"I have received a letter..." she began. "from a cousin of mine. He is Duke Phillip of Bavaria." She could see the effort to remain aloof fading in Mary's eyes as curiosity took over. "Phillip would like to come to England and pay court to you." She smiled as winningly as possible, though Mary remained wary.

Anne had grown knowing her cousin very well. He was a staple at her brother's court and was a gentleman indeed. Young, vibrant, kind...he was everything a girl could wish for in a husband. And when in his letter he had written of Mary with something akin to worship. He had heard reports of her from Cleves and was already enthralled with the idea of having a perfect princess as a potential wife. And for a girl who had been neglected or used for the majority of her life, Anne was certain Mary would flourish under his attention.

"Why?" Came Mary's genuinely confused response. No doubt expecting the same scheming for power that she had grown used to. Expecting to hear that now that she was back in the king's good graces, news of her eligibility had traveled far.

"He has heard many things about you, Princess Mary. Many _good_ things!"

She took a moment to think, and Anne could see her teeth catch her lip. "I suppose he is a Lutheran...like you." She could see a flicker of disdain in Mary's eyes and couldn't help but smile. Mary had been resilient in her faith, unwavering even at the threat of death. It had been a point that Phillip had made in his letter-how someone so strong was a figure to be admired and that it showed true character. That Mary would quote this reason first as an objection was amusing.

"He is charming..." she said, temptingly. "And very good-looking. I think you might like him a little" she all but winked at the princess who had probably been bartered off more than once to men old enough to be her father. Men who had no business taking a lovely, young, accomplished woman to wife. Men who would not appreciate her education, wit, or strength. "What should I tell him?"

It pleased Anne to see Mary at a loss for words. This was clearly not the interaction she had been expecting. Anne Boleyn had sent her from court. Jane Seymour had fought to bring her back. Now Anne would try to secure her future.

After taking a second to collect herself, Mary finally responded. "Tell him he may come if he if the king wishes. But...tell him not to expect anything." Knowing this was as far as she'd get at the moment, Anne smiled and nodded her understanding. Mary rose quickly, still clearly uncomfortable, and dipped her another quick curtsey.

As she watched the princess leave, she inwardly took a deep breath. That went as well as could be expected. Better, maybe.

"Lady Rochford? Please bring me something to write with. I must give my cousin a response."


End file.
